if i had a box just for wishes
by themanonthemoon
Summary: Clara huffed, already feeling a storm brewing, and was reminded why she hadn't spoken to the man for twelve years. "My parenting? What about your choice of recreation with children? Video games in a pub?" she countered. The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "Brilliant idea. Never had the opportunity. Thought this was the perfect window!"


_...If I had a box just for wishes_  
 _And dreams that had never come true_  
 _The box would be empty_  
 _Except for the memory_  
 _Of how they were answered by you_

 _~ Time in a bottle, Jim Croce_

"How do you know mum again?"

The silver haired man sighed for the fourth time that day. "You know," he exhaled, scrubbing a tired hand over his lined face. You ask too many questions. Especially, for a person your size."

 _Too much like another bossy little imp he knew_.

"Excuse me!" the little girl scowled, and he was forced to return his attention to her. I'm almost twelve? And mom wouldn't just let a man she's never mentioned in the past dozen years to babysit her only daughter all of a sudden."

Oh shut your trap and be grateful, he wanted to say, ignoring the sting those words actually caused him. He snapped, "Well, whatever she had to do, it had to be urgent!" For her to _summon_ me, he thought bitterly recalling the message he had received on his psychic paper less than an hour ago.

The girl whined, "And she couldn't have left me with Fran?" but her words fell on deaf ears.

 _Doctor,_

 _I need help. Take care of my daughter, Sarah. DO NOT SHOW HER THE TARDIS._

 _Clara_

Beneath that was her address in a set of coordinates. Had someone been in the TARDIS with him when he read it, they would have laughed at how he almost gasped dramatically. The nerve of the girl! Even a simple hello would have sufficed! And to allocate that much trust in him to care for her daughter? As if everything that happened over the past decade had simply dissolved! He was ashamed to admit he had anticipated a satisfyingly more explosive confrontation. He hadn't even got to see her yet.

He stared at the message again, his first notion was that she was arrested and had possibly murdered her husband. Probably. But his mind quickly rebutted,

Knowing Clara she would have lied her way through everything; masterfully covering up the evidence, weaving excuses to fill up gaps until the disaster became flawless. Perhaps long ago, he thought resignedly, that was what he required; coupled with a security blanket that was how well she knew him and an escape clause that offered no end to the adventure, mayhem and adrenaline.

At that time, he was tired of being tied down, having spent the majority of his past regeneration in an endangered planet, he needed the rocket fuel to go as far away as he could, to anywhere he could. That came with Clara; always offering that extra hand and knowing exactly what to do, always chiding his actions when he went too far, but soon, every Wednesday wasn't enough anymore. He would have been ecstatic to know she was going to be a permanent resident in the TARDIS, that's what he had always wanted, in River and the Ponds. But for the either of them, forming attachments was difficult. After Danny, the Doctor felt responsible for her choices, no matter how grounded she may be, her addiction, or rather _their_ addiction to running in and out of adventures often blinded her judgement . After all, he had seen her future, as an old lady, unmarried, alone, reminiscing about bygone days.

It had scared him, somehow; the parallels of their lives, how her destiny was slowly morphing into one unlike his own.

And when he really found Gallifrey? What then? Where would she be when he finally found his family alive and settled?

It was a mistake letting her go on such a note, that their futures would only become more complicated. 14 lives and their fair share of losses assured him that this was the most generous mistake he had ever made. Nonetheless, it hurt all the same.

"Doctor, why do you call yourself _the Doctor_?" asked the little girl, who probably had the life span of an ant living on Gallifrey and who, he almost sighed in relief, was just starting to ask the right questions.

"Probably because I help people," he found himself saying with more confidence now every time someone asked. _It's my duty, my purpose,_ _ **my name**_ **.**

"How?"

The tall man was now rummaging through the house distractedly, itching to pull out his sonic screwdriver to scan for anything interesting that was available to do. Unfortunately, the house was shriveled dry from entertainment besides the television and some books. Maybe Clara really was on the run.

He turned and gave one longing look at the TARDIS camouflaged in the corner of the room.

DO NOT SHOW HER THE TARDIS.

He even tempted a step towards his ship before admonishing himself,

 _No children in the TARDIS remember? And damn it those are your rules, not because Clara said so._

"How do you help people then?" repeated the girl impatiently.

In a sudden spark of enlightenment, the Doctor turned, bent at the knees so that he was eye level with the girl, put two fingers on her wrist and sagely diagnosed "In your case, we need to take you to the pub."

* * *

"What?!" cried the 12 year old, who in his opinion was very poorly named Sarah (with a 'H', she insisted, heaven knows why), and should have been named instead after a species of methodically squawking birds.

The Doctor all but dragged her to the nearest pub, the whole while thinking that this regeneration was very poorly built and thoroughly inept for taking care of children much less interacting with them. It was already hard enough to communicate with adults (which was a relative term in his case and should more appropriately also be categorized as children) without injecting some sarcastic remarks and narrowing his eyebrows.

It was only thanks to the miniscule amount of trust the girl had for him, undoubtedly due to a brief but sufficient lecture from her mother about him before leaving her under his care, that she had allowed herself to follow him. 'It didn't look like she had a choice!' she huffed to herself as his long bony fingers tightened their hold on her small ones.

"I wish we could have stayed at home." she muttered finally, as they neared their destination.

"And what, fry your eyes out with hours of TV?" he said at the same she amended, "Or we could have gone to playground.."

Both persons huffed, "Video games are very stimulating," he defended. "You need intelligence, something your mother is obviously not instilling in you."

"Oh, so I can fry my eyes out in a different way? " she bit back and for the first time in years, the Doctor felt his temper reach boiling heights. This was definitely Clara's daughter. She inherited NOTHING from her father. Poor man had to live with two of these creatures.

"I'm underage to even be here!" she exclaimed as they entered and the Doctor had somehow managed to transfer his anger to his fists that were now clenching and releasing at his sides. "Fine, video games, but couldn't we have done that in the arcade? Or somewhere child friendly?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes above her and scanned the room. "There's practically no one here. And look there's the family corner!" he said pointing at the secluded alcove in the room that sure enough, had a small television situated there complete with game consoles. Little did she know that he had placed them there using his TARDIS while she had gone to pack her knapsack a while ago.

The mousy haired observed her surroundings skeptically. She had never been to a pub before but imagined it to be dark, noisy, dirty and alcohol smelling. This one looked like the ones old people went to and that usually appeared in old Bond movies (yes she had to sit through one with her father). It was dimly lit but had old leather coaches, red wallpaper, and old carpeted flooring that made the pub smell funny for whole other reasons. "You can even choose a non-alcoholic beverage if you want," the Doctor added slightly hopefully, which as expected, brought a small smile on her face.

"I'll have a coke, with a twisty straw please," she requested politely to the barman by herself, who smiled at her and wondered how she was related to the brooding man behind her.

They didn't have twisty straws in this place, but as Sarah made herself comfortable in her corner, she felt herself become happier. Earlier, she could have acquiesced the Doctor's irritable behavior as she was feeling much the same. It was just like her mother to leave without proper explanation.

Unlike the Doctor however, Sarah knew she had good reason to do so. Apparently, mommy is a spy. And Sarah had been sworn into secrecy at such a young age, her parents had even felt very bad about it. "She's too young to know, don't you think dear, too young to carry a burden," father had said but mother had spoken so quietly after that that Sarah was surprised he heard anything at all. "No more lies, remember?" Clara said ultimately, like it was a promise.

Sarah always wondered when she would break and the secret would be out because of her. And who would be the one to squeeze that information from her.

Her eyes wandered to the 'praying mantis' arguing with the kind-faced barman she had met earlier. Sarah loved reading and therefore, had a knack of characterizing the people she met. The Doctor was no doubt an interesting personality, maybe a mixture of Stooge, Gimli and… a magician – it really was too early to tell. Honestly, she has yet to see the man smile!

Perhaps being unhappy was something that he _enjoyed doing,_ like a hobby? Nonetheless, he still had a strange effect that made her warm up to him. As if he was purposely aggravating the whole pub to amuse her.

Either way, she doubted he would suspect her loyalties as he was now busy assembling the video for her to play. The Doctor, who previously felt oddly obligated to do so, was now regretting his decision. "Have you done this before?" piped in Sarah unhelpfully after watching him vigorously press multiple buttons at the same time in hopes of 'switching on the bloody screen'. The man with the magician's suit growled, "No but I expect it's going to be _fun."_

It was the only thing he knew, that he remembered from a time long ago that this sounded something like a child would relatively enjoy. His past self, was at times, a very good comparison to one after all. After a while, he let Sarah take the controls. He waited till she had gone through at least three full rows of blocks before he left her engrossed with TETRIS.

"This is so easy," she had declared upon starting the level, as the colourful blocks dropped down the screen. However, upon learning the objective of the game and much to the Doctor's amusement, she began emitting little grunts of frustration as the empty spaces between mismatched blocks began to gather. Her fingers moved deftly, and eyes glued to the screen. The Doctor smirked, and mentally patted his back. Quietly, he slipped out a Super Mario disc out of his jacket pocket onto the floor behind her.

Although the TARDIS was within reach, the Doctor watched over Sarah like a hawk and less like a responsible guardian, in the mean time re-discovering his taste for wine and forgetting that she had required something to eat.

The only other person at the bar as expected at ten thirty in the morning was the bartender, an overall nice fellow that felt a little responsible for the girl on the Doctor's behalf. He had also attempted to strike a conversation with the Doctor about the different breweries in England but eventually failed to sustain the one-sided conversation. Once he deduced the source of the lack of response, his non-existent eyebrows drew together and his forehead creased exponentially,

"What in the name of Mother Mary is that?!" he hissed, a much quieter reaction than the Doctor would have expected, as he pointed directly at the contraption in the older man's hands. The fox-faced man shot a glance at Sarah whose sillouhette could be seen against the glowing television, her back thankfully still towards him, and then turned and glared at the gaping man behind the bar.

"It's a memory separator, you podgy faced buffoon!" the Doctor snapped as if the barman ought to have known what it was. "And now, if you could just stop talking – "

The barman, unfazed by the insult remained gob-smacked and a little horrified. "But what is _that_?" he specified, timidly tapping the glass on the contraption whereby a creature was staring back at him, mouth full of teeth.

"Oh, that –" said the Doctor as if he just realized it was there. "That there is a wee memory worm. The babies usually have more teeth to latch onto the specimens. But as they grow, the adults' lips are firm enough to provide the support and they lose the teeth… something like human children except for the lips part. Fortunately, memory worm infants don't need to be fed, and they are conveniently small; very portable, as you can see." The Doctor demonstrated fitting the contraption into the pocket hidden in the inner lining of his jacket.

" _Specimens_?" was all the barman could say, now looking at the Doctor's face with the same expression he had looked at the worm earlier. Looking resigned, the Doctor felt like this was another one of those people he had overestimated. But before he could offer a demonstration of the device, the man surprised him, schooling his features and suddenly disappearing round the back. "Oh! That must be the boss," he said as the phone rang behind him. "Will chat with you later yeah?" Before he scurried off, he peeped around the door reminding the Doctor, "I think it's time for lunch for the little lady!"

The Doctor simply stared at the empty space where the man once stood. Perhaps it wasn't wise to show off to every unassuming stranger, he digressed suspiciously. Oh, he had _really_ wanted to test his invention. With his irritation cemented, " _You_ make it!" he shouted in response.

* * *

 _Something wasn't right here. Not. Right. At. All._

The Doctor observed the steaming plate of spaghetti before him, watching the steam waft into the surroundings until it reached thermal equilibrium with it. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the barkeep disappear into the room behind the bar once again. Fingers dancing on the sonic screwdriver hidden within his coat, the Doctor licked his lips, tasting the danger and excitement, instead of the pasta.

Sitting before him was Sarah, watching his face intently whilst cutting her fish and chips daintily into smaller portions. "Are you going to eat that?" she asked finally and the Doctor's gaze shifted to hers.

"Yes, you greedy little imp."

Ignoring his comment, as she just wanted an excuse for him to start speaking, she asked,

"What were you thinking about?"

"About when your mother will come back," answered the man, tapping his foot impatiently to emphasize his point.

"Normally, she just takes a day."

"And does she do this on a regular basis?" The Doctor asked beginning to sound worried. Well, as long as that buffoon of her husband is there with her. No matter how dim witted the fool looked, he followed her like a bloodhound.

"Not _everyday_ … maybe, thrice a week? Usually she drops me off at Fran's house. Before grandpa past away, it was his place." She said between mouthfuls, as he eyed her face. Her eyes looked anywhere but at his.

He discreetly looked down past his pasta and to his lap where his gadget was situated. It was a hard maneuver to conceal since she was sitting no more than 5 inches away from him, but he needed to finish it as soon as possible. The worm inside grinned at him with all its 43856 teeth, looking eerily like the Snowmen he had encountered, when he first met Clara eons ago. He gave the knob on the side a harsh tug which inadvertently caused the table to jerk and everything on it to wobble out of their respective dishes. A piece of fish with tartar sauce landed on Sarah's lap whilst a bit of her drink sloshed onto her stomach. Strands of the Doctor's tomato covered spaghetti dangled precariously on the edges of the table.

"Hey!" she cried, in a mixture of anger and despair. The new dress mommy had chose for her was now ruined.

"Oops so sorry, my bad." He said unapologetically, ushering her back to the alcove, so that she could get a new set of clothes from her bag to change.

"But I wasn't done eating yet! When I'm done changing, could we get more food?"

"Yes, yes, as if you don't look like a sated piglet already!"

As soon as she was out of sight, the Doctor pulled out his contraption so it was in full view. _Now, let's see whether this baby will work._

 _So are you the King of Gallifrey yet? Or Queen?_

If this worked then, they was a silver lining that he would be able to access his future selves short term memories. The Doctor was never a patient man, and although this was neither the proper place nor time to be doing this, he went to the corner, eyes moving back and forth from Sarah (now fully dressed) perched by the counter, no doubt looking for him, and the creature grinning behind the glass. Licking his lips, and muttering all the prayers he knew from all across the universe (just for a little luck), he pressed the button.

 _Please, for Rassillion's sake_ , Please. Work.

Suddenly, he felt himself moving forward, though really he knew it was just his mind that was; whizzing through time, and overlapping with instances that he has never seen before, moments that had yet to occur. He laughed, as he went, silently thanking his beloved TARDIS for assisting with the blueprints of the 'separator'. She probably wanted to go home as much as he did. It was time, it was definitely time.

It was a queer sensation, feeling the gust of cold wind through his clothes, as if he was physically inside his own head. Never had he felt this way, since that one time he rescued Clara from his own time stream. In fact, the experience was similar except this time he was on a mission to catch hold of a _future_ version of him self.

He saw flashes of colour, people in costume, rooms with blurred contents zipping past him. _Slow down!_

"Doctor!" he heard faintly, it echoed from a distance before reaching his ears. He tried to concentrate and focus his energy to source of the sound. "Doctor!" he heard more clearly.

"Amy?" he whispered, recognizing the unforgettable Scottish lilt. He looked around and saw more familiar images materialize around him; a jagged crack in the wall, a beloved blue book, a garden at night _. Damn! He was going_ _backwards._

"Stop, STOP!" he shouted forcefully, flapping his hands at his side uselessly. Previously crafted plans on how to get out of this dreamscape all but evaporated from his saturated mind. As he flailed much like his previous regeneration, he helplessly entered the more uncharted parts of his mind that were, more often than not, sealed away with lock and key, and were subconsciously private even to himself at times. He was finally beginning to slow down, his movements becoming lethargic like he was moving through molasses.

Before him, he saw Rose without the wall between them, he saw himself having tea with old Donna talking of days gone by, he saw his and River's hands wound together around a boy that looked so much like him and finally, he saw Danny sans the Cyberman suit, opposite Clara in the alter, smiling adoringly at her as always, as they said their vows.

 _Why?_ He wanted to tear his hair out. His own voice appropriately surmised, in a moment of respite, simply because

 _ **I'm always the optimist, the hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams.**_

And these were the days that just never came. He could live here, he thought finally, and he would finally be content. How everything should have ended – happily.

Then all of a sudden, Clara's voice cried, "DOCTOR!" followed by a sharp sting and as he slowed to a halt, all reassuringly went black.

* * *

When the Doctor stirred to consciousness, he felt something hard pressed against his spine. Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, he popped open his eyes and jolted into a sitting position, back ramrod straight and lined up with what he now knew was the TARDIS doors. For a moment, a smile almost crept in when he thought the whole day never really happened. After all when he had activated the device, the TARDIS had been across the room. Unless, he had subconciously stumbled all the way there in order to harness the TARDIS's energy to keep the device running. _Now there's that logic. Nothing is ever conveniently a dream. Rule…whatever._

As soon as he cracked open his eyes however, he squeezed them shut again. "How long have I been out?" he asked groggily, much to his chagrin, to the circle of people now formed around his sprawled form.

"About 2 hours?" Clara supplied, whom the Doctor now noticed was leaning on the TARDIS doors next to him. "We almost contemplated shoving you in," she said pointing to the blue box, "so that she could fix you up if it was serious. But you were your grumpy old self even when unconscious so… no harm done!"

The Doctor put a valiant effort to scowl, but his facial muscles remained lax. "So when did you arrive Ms. Oswald? Or shouldn't it be Mrs. Harkness now?"

"There's more than one Jack in the world Doctor and my husband is not Captain Jack _Harkness_."

"Sparrow, then! Why Clara, I didn't know you fancied pirates?"

Clara wisely ignored him, and heaved a sigh, moaning, "I can't imagine what would have happened if I wasn't contacted!"

The thin man craned his head as far as he could to the left, and was met with a conspirotal look from Sarah who was sitting at the other end of the room. " _You_ ," he rasped, feeling somewhat betrayed.

"Actually," interjected Clara. "If it wasn't for Bruce, you would have been a amnesiatic blob of what used to be the Doctor by now!" and the Doctor snapped his head so hard back to face her that he felt his neck crack. _Bruce?_ He mouthed quizzically.

"Yep." And all eyes turned to the barkeep. "You were right about the teeth though, it had quite the grip on you. Needed to use this to pry it out of you," said Bruce-the-barkeep, who was holding up a set of sturdy multipurpose pliers that could only be found in the intergalactic Ace Hardware a few solar systems away. _I think my brain is already putty regardless_ , the Doctor thought sourly as he regarded 'Bruce'.

Before he could even begin to question, Clara cleared her throat and explained slowly, "Look Doctor, there's something I need to tell you."

 _Oh no, this line had been the opening to the majority of their disagreements in their past._

"I always knew that the adventure would never end for me. Marriage was a new chapter in my life," her voice dropped lower and Bruce politely went to put away his tool. "Lovely, stable… but monotonous. We needed an outlet for… excitement and I suppose, purpose. As soon as I gave up the 'travelling' with you, and married Jack, we contacted Kate you know, from UNIT and found out about Torchwood. It seemed ideal for us."

The Doctor simply stared at her, before commenting drily,

"You know, the one thing that least surprises me today, is how you weren't entirely honest with me," _Clara has a daughter, Clara is an agent, the barkeep is Bruce, Bruce is Jack, the memory worm plan backfired_ , "strangely, that's the only thing thus far that's comforting…"

"This was not going to be a **lie** ," she said abruptly, her brown orbs already sparkling with fury. "It was an emergency and I had to make the note as concise as I could! You were the only one I could trust!" she said, causing both his eyebrows to raise in shock. _Remember, Clara, that I had lied too._ _In fact, I lie all the time. Just like you. River was right (as she always was). I am a hypocrite._ "Besides 'Bruce' of course," she added, smiling slightly at her the man who had assumed his position behind the counter once again. "You can take it off now darling, I think he knows," she said fondly to the plump man. And just like that, 'Bruce' shed his disguise before the Doctor, changing before his eyes like a Zygon.

"Hello Jack," said the Doctor once he saw the other man's familiar face. The once barkeep-now-actually-Clara's-annoying-husband grinned, looking dorkishly handsome. "Surprise!" he deadpanned, shoving his costume in a duffel bag under the counter. "Couldn't have left you alone with my daughter now could I?" Jack said, eyeing the TARDIS pointedly. The Doctor almost growled.

"Doctor," Clara's voice cut through, "That worm didn't get out of the glass by itself. You smashed it out of its case. It _made_ you do it."

"There was word going round that a priceless memory worm was stolen from Edraxus Missouri. _Precious_ because in the future it famously puts you in a coma," he stopped in time for Clara to hiss 'Spoilers' with an efficiency that could have put River Song to shame. "He already knows!" Jack said raising his hands in defense. "Why would he have stolen it then?"

Clara turned to her former best friend, whose eyes were glazing over. Jack sighed. "One day ago, it was reported to be on Earth. Our responsibility," said Jack seriously. "Now, it's in _your_ hands. Not only does it have 43856 teeth as you said, but it causes your memory to fade even when you aren't touching it. "

Come to think of it now, the Time Lord couldn't remember where he had obtained the worm in the first place. "Luckily for you, since you have no recollection of getting the worm, we might have just found you a loophole from lifetime incarceration."

 _Brilliant, now he really was an old man with Alzheimer's._

"You are a good actor, Bruce. I'll give you that," the Doctor grumbled finally, standing up and Jack willingly accepted it as gratitude. "You're welcome," responded Jack-formerly-Bruce, smiling.

"But you didn't have to…" the older man waved his hand at the younger man's form before finding the right words. "Dress. Up."

Jack visibly twitched. "When you're trying to raise a child, Doctor, the adventure of time and space should be just stories you tell them before they go to sleep. If Sarah knew what we were doing, she would have been in danger. Point two, Clara and I were tracking down the memory worm, which we discovered was on your person, tucked safely in your pocket for the past two days. We needed you here."

"So you used your own daughter as bait?"

"You make yourself sound like a monster," the agent said incredulously, at which Clara put a hand on his shoulder willing him to stop. "You're just more lost than ever now…" he continued in silent revelation. Jack never called him the Doctor. The silver-haired Time Lord flinched. "Jack…" his wife begged.

Feeling unnaturally clammy, the Doctor retreated from the site, needing space to breathe and _think_. Clara shadowed him silently until, he grated out,

"I _hate_ him. He's up there, a narrow second to the Daleks."

The petite brunette afforded a chuckle. "You never had to like him. That's my job."

"Blech!" the Doctor spat, dispelling all his unwelcome thoughts of Jack and Clara. The woman in question regarded him for a while, before asking gently,

"Why did you steal the worm Doctor? We both know, that if you had wanted to avert the coma, you would have killed it decades ago or done some other... timey-wimey thing."

The Doctor exhaled one labored breath at a time. Clara's warm hazel eyes pleaded him.

 _Because I wanted to know if I ever find Gallifrey in the future. If that worm accessed all my memories in the future in that coma, I'd know where it was without even risking a paradox. I just want to find my way back home._

His answer came after a while, and it was ultimatum. "No."

Clara flinched, before letting out her own breath she was holding. She nodded, as if his silence conveyed a million words. "Okay."

"But for what it's worth, Doctor. Thanks for coming anyway. I genuinely didn't think you would, not after how things ended between us."

The Doctor managed a small sideways smile. It was a start. And suddenly, they were back to how they were.

"Still doesn't explain how you knew we were going to the pub," he quipped, in which, the brunette responded bemusedly, waving her cellphone at him, "She _texted_ me."

 _She, as in the mousy haired midget Sarah._

Then, as soon as it appeared Clara's smile faded, "Did you tell her about…" she trailed off eyes looking at the TARDIS behind him like it was carnivorous. The Doctor frowned, fighting the urge roll his eyes. "No. I did not inadvertently offer her a role to be my companion. She showed very poor performance, didn't even earn half a star. And before you ask again, no, 'traveling' just means boring old globe trotting, a'ight?"

His former companion almost sighed in relief, "And that's what it should mean, at least to her. Hopefully her 'poor' performance sustains," she added.

The Doctor snorted, directing a sly sideways glance at his former companion. "You are a classic example of parenting done wrong."

Already feeling a storm brewing, Clara huffed and was reminded why she hadn't spoken to the man for twelve years.

"My parenting? What about your choice of recreation with children? Video games in a _pub_?" she countered, eyebrows raised and forehead creasing with worry. The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "Brilliant idea. Never had the opportunity. Thought this was the perfect window!"

Then, with perfect timing, Clara's husband sidled up to her seemingly out of no where. It was easy to forget he was there, he had a plain albeit kind face except when he smiled, which to the Doctor's distaste, he did quite often. "So, family outing then, grandpa?" As the Doctor's eyes narrowed, Jack's Cheshire grin widened inch by inch. There was an unspoken animosity between the two men, but the fact that the Doctor usually did have that effect on his companions' partners did make him preen a bit.

Clara rolled her eyes, reading his thoughts off his face like it was slate.

"What a good idea, Jack." She agreed cheerily whilst the Doctor bristled and her husband's eyes sparkled triumphantly. Her eyes sent warning glares to both men.

When their eyes locked, the Doctor grinned (maybe a bit evilly), genuinely thrilled to see how the evening will turn out. He mentally accounted to keep the TARDIS within a 10 metre radius from them at all times. Upon hearing Jack, the Clown was already starting up the car outside, Clara called "Sarah, we're leaving!"

"Hold on, John's just finishing his turn!" the girl's voice floated from behind a few tables where the TV was situated. Clara heaved a very motherly exasperated sigh and the Doctor took it as his que to peep around the corner with his arms crossed. "You don't want to yer mum angry, imp. It's worse than – " the thin man paused as he caught sight of her, words dying in his throat and attack eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

There, right next to mini-Clara was a face he had seen River slap, cringe and smile adoringly at.

 _But how?_

His brain didn't seem to have an immediate explanation, but he'll know later, when he'll finally confide in Clara, that this was simply the after effects of the worm. All that seemed to matter now however, was that Bow-tie was sitting, cross-legged on the floor, eyes trained on the glowing screen with a concentration that rivaled the times he steered entire planets from crash collisions. The Ponds were lounging on the table behind him; Rory looking relieved everyone was alive, laughing care-freely at an acute observation River made of the raggedy man sprawled on the floor before her. Judging by the several empty mugs on the table, he decided that the nurse was, for the first time the Doctor had seen him, willingly (and blissfully) intoxicated.

This was a celebration after all, in another reality where everyone was alive and together. _How many times had he wished this?_ That this was a memory and not a dream; that this was the _fruition_ of a suggestion made at the calm before the storm.

His eyes naturally looked for Amy, who had just arrived from obtaining another drink and had plopped promptly in her seat between River and Rory as if she had been purposefully placed there; akin to something precious that should always be protected. _Always his Amelia Pond – if only she could see him now, so thoroughly Scottish and still_ _ **not**_ _ginger._

The Doctor's lips tilted upwards when she turned to reprimand Rory albeit with a smile on her face only to burst out laughing when he pulled her in for a chaste kiss, all the while under the bemused watch of their daughter.

At times even more guarded than her father, the Doctor smiled fondly at his wife, still clothed in that exquisite backless onyx dress, he later realized he had gotten for her. _Her mourning dress._

Her relaxed expression resonated in him, and he found himself feeling genuinely pleased. A smug grin accompanied a warm sting in his heart when he caught her sneaking a sip of his sickly sweet soda; one of many that she had condemned when he had ordered it. Of course, he wouldn't have listened at the time, too distracted by the way her curls had escaped their do, framing her face in his most favorite way.

She had been so infuriatingly calm after the tragedy that he was inclined to believe he had truly led her to madness. She herself had admitted, one psychopath per TARDIS was enough when he offered her stay (not that he ever needed to, she was always welcome.)

The Doctor sighed for the umpteenth time that day. But this time, it racked from his core and was, much to his dismay mingled with a sob that had apparently gathered there during the whole ordeal. He cleared his throat, feeling exhausted and wrung dry and looked back upon the scene. The image was still there, like a family photograph and he could have stood there and analyzed every single detail of a moment that never happened. But he had time for that; during rare moments when he could afford to catch a wink of sleep.

Eyeing the priceless image of River and his drink one last time, he stepped away from the image, thinking about how awful life would be just drenched in sugary syrup.

* * *

Clara looked at him questioningly, peering up at him from her standing a head shorter than him. "Are you okay?"

The man dressed more like a magician immediately jolted into action, whirling around in Sarah's direction only to find the ginger-haired boy, John pointing behind him.

"She's in the backseat of the car," informed Clara sardonically, suddenly appearing a few inches before him when he turned around before him. He took a cautious step back. In the past, she would have moved forward, crowding his personal space, jabbing a finger at his chest till she managed to squeeze an answer from him. But this new-Clara just looked him the eye, and the words just fell out of his mouth, "Mind just wandered a bit there," he admitted a bit sheepishly.

Mellow-Clara barely glanced over his shoulder to the glowing screen, "Video games in the pub?" she asked knowingly, and the Doctor was hit by a strange suspicion that she _knew_. Arms hanging uselessly at his sides, he realized he needed a hug. Gratefully, he never had to ask. Clara wrapped her small arms around his thin form (this time, not in a manner that squeezed the life out of him). She granted him a tight, reassuring embrace and the best part was he didn't even have to say thank you. He was rubbish at that sort of thing.

As he looked at the top of her head fondly, he wondered what she saw when she was briefly thrown into his time stream. She had never specifically told him, heck, she could have seen his most private moments! Allowing himself to ponder, he wondered if she had scene that pivotal moment; that horrifying scene at the Graveyard centuries ago, that proved to be the turning point in his life.

" _Doctor?" Rory called, and the man faced him, fringe flopped over his eyes, as he clapped his hands excitedly. They made it out alive!_

" _Look, next time could we just go out to the pub?" he asked tiredly. For God's sake they had just narrowly escaped their deaths by committing suicide! He definitely needed a drink; or maybe two._

" _I want to go to the pub right now." Said the Doctor matter-of-factly, giving the lawn of the graveyard a cringe before looking up hopefully, "Ah, are there any video games there? I love video games?"_

 _River smiled, dusting off the last speck on the TARDIS doors and turned to look at the people that mattered most in her life, "Right. Family outing then."_

And right after that everything took a turn to the left; everything that was significant in his life was suddenly and cruelly stolen from him. All the happiness and colour that existed before simply drained away leaving only a bleak shell of the man he once was. He supposed it was inevitable; life had a way of snatching away all the joy and by now, having lived thousands of years, he should know better. But it hurt regardless, every single time, and he could swear that he never once anticipated any one of those heart-wrenching moments.

"Should I be worried then? Leaving my daughter in the hands of a-" she shook her head bemusedly "you.".

He knew this was a rhetorical question because he was certain that she immeasurably was worried.

He also knew that life had a way of _giving_ , when he least expected.

"Does this mean _she'll_ be seeing _me_ again?" the Doctor threaded carefully as Clara wore a mixture of indistinguishable expressions.

"You aren't traveling alone are you?" she asked.

 _What if I am?_

"There's no job vacancy for children below nineteen so don't worry."

Clara tilted her head in a way that was all too familiar, putting a hand gently against his cheek, just like she used to. _This must be her motherly instincts kicking in,_ the Doctor thought wryly. To be fair, he had gotten slightly accustomed to physical contact. He daresay leaned into her touch.

"I'm worried about _you_."

He swore his hearts skipped a beat. _Definitely the maternal instincts_. Speaking of which, he noted that the wrinkles around her eyes were the only indication of 12 years gone by. _Hmph. Apparently, small people aged well._

"I appreciate the concern," he said slowly prying off her hand. Clara just sighed, and jumped when the car outside began to horn every two seconds a minute. The Doctor growled, Clown boy was impatient as always. For Gallifrey's sake, their _wedding_ was only ten minutes long. But then again, he digressed so was his.

"Whatever," Clara shrugged, grabbing his hand. "You are going to enjoy yourself," she ordered, her true bossy colours resurfacing.

"As long as mini-Clara is there."

"Mini-Clara?" she seemed pleased at the notion. The Doctor mentally scoffed, _Utterly incredulous ,_ _Narcisistic-_

"And you better not zone out again when you watch over her. Honestly, it's like dragging along another child!"

 _Long winded, Self-centered,_

"Hold the phone!" cried the Doctor in a moment of enlightenment. "Did you just say I could watch over her _again_?"

Deep inside her mind, Clara unleashed an unbridled grin. It was so overwhelming, she could feel it in her cheeks.

 _Adrenaline packed_ ,

"GRANDPA!" yelled Sarah as Jack mercilessly continued his sound assault. She was practically hanging out the car window when the Doctor got in beside her.

 _Yes Susan?_

"Hey, Sarah – " the old man began eyes trained on the back of Jack's head. She was already picking up on her father's bad,bad habits. He ought to teach her some of his own.

 _Absolutely amazing – story of his life_.


End file.
